


Dying for the Devil

by PlagueClover



Category: Original - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alabama, Anal Sex, Angst and Tragedy, Creature Fic, Cults, Erotica, Ex-con, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Homophobia, Horror, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Masochism, Native American Character(s), Obsession, Post-Prison, Religious Fanaticism, Sex Addiction, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Tentacles, Thriller, Tragic history, Visions, Worship, vengeful spirit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-06-22 03:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19658962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueClover/pseuds/PlagueClover
Summary: Liam’s early release from prison comes way earlier than he expected, but he’s not thrilled when he finds out his Christian Republican father’s behind it. Thought he’d get a little taste of freedom, but instead he gets hidden away in some backwoods town because daddy doesn’t want him stirring up trouble during his campaign. Problem is, this time it’s not Liam stirring up the trouble. There’s something wrong with that town, and something extra wrong with that lake and them tentacles coming out of it.





	1. Taste of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in Alabama, but it does not touch on the current controversies surrounding the state today. Honestly, I just wanted to forget about the real horrors going on down there for a minute and write some porny fictional horrors. 
> 
> A big thank-you hug to Melrick for helping me with the name. And a big sloppy kiss to WindriderShiva for betaing this bundle of peens.

**Dying for the Devil**

**Chapter One**

The guys in here with me, they can’t wait to get out. Just caged beasts, tense, frustrated, violent. They spend their days preparing. For what? For shit to hit that proverbial fan. For the authority that constantly brutalizes us to make a mistake. For a kidney to shank. For that knife in the dark that we knew was coming for each and every one of us.

It got real easy to forget we were human. Hell, everyone else had. 

But me, I liked it. I knew exactly what I was in there: inmate Liam Macbay. All those blurred lines and nuanced social orders on the outside couldn’t touch me no more. Prison was the first taste of freedom I got. 

A loud buzz set my teeth on edge. My cellie let out a startled grunt against my neck. I could feel the panic stiffen in the warm body against my back, so I cracked an eye open to look at him, but he was already moving. He peeled himself away, leaving the sweat on my bare back to cool in his absence. He briefly blocked out the dimmed fluorescent light from the common area as he hopped up onto the top bunk. 

For fuck’s sake. Of all the people I could’ve been bunkies with, it had to be a fucking ass kisser. What the fuck could they do? Give me another write up? Another stern talking-to about how prisoners were not entitled to basic human fucking comfort? 

I let my head drop back down to the sweaty pillow even as our cell door grated open. 

Above me, my Cellie Carlos groaned. “What the fuck, man? It’s four a.m.” 

When no answer came, the hairs on my neck prickled. I could feel attention on me heavy and expectant in the air, so, since I didn’t feel like being forced out of bed, I lifted my head and greeted the silhouette with a sleepy salute. “Morning handsome.”

A sigh responded. “Where are your pants, Liam?” 

“Lost ‘em.” 

“You mean that heap on the floor beside you?”

I glanced down at my shadowy floor and feigned a look of surprise. “Would you look at that. You’re a right Sherlock Holmes, ain’tcha?” 

“Just get dressed.”

“Sir, yes sir.” 

Carlos was hanging over the edge to peak down at me. Nearly bumped heads as I climbed lazily out of bed and pulled on the regulation sweatpants. 

“Why you want him so early?” His voice was low and whiny. Made me kinda glad to be getting out of that cell. Maybe find some less annoying fellas to rub shoulders with. 

Officer Shah was quiet for a moment. Couldn’t see his face, but I could feel him watching my every move. “He’s getting out.”

Carlos’ head jerked up. “What?!” 

That one even took me by surprise. My brows coulda hit my hairline as I gaped at him. “What are you talking about? I have-”

“Nooo!” Carlos jumped down. He threw his arms around me and squeezed. “You can’t let him out! He’s a danger to society!”

“Aw,” I tried to pry him off me but the fucker was twice as strong and tenfold stubborn. “C’mon now.”

“Don’t fucking ‘c’mon’ me,” Carlos whined into my hair. 

As lips pressed to my forehead and cheek, I sent an exasperated look to Officer Shah. He wasn’t gonna help. Long as I was suffering, them uniformed pricks were all chill about all sorts of touching. “Kinda outside-the-lining-it now, ain’t we? Discharges go at eight.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Shah finally stuck his nightstick between us. He didn’t have to give too much of a nudge for Carlos to grudgingly let go. “Your ride’s waiting. If there’s anyone else you wanna say your goodbyes to, you’ll have to write them a letter.”

I flashed a sleepy grin and strolled out. “My ride? You call my ex or something?” 

“Move.” 

“Okay, okay.”

“Liam!” As the cell closed, Carlos pressed his whole naked body up against the bars and reached a clawing hand out. “I love you!” And a chorus of whistles and groans echoed around the pod. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little face, honeybear. I’ll be back soon.”

“If you fuck anyone else, I’ll rip your cock off!”

I barked a laugh and looked to Shah. “Yer gonna write him up for that threat, right?”

“Keep moving.”

“Everybody knows outside sex don’t count.”

Shah scowled. “Liam.”

“Fine, you’re right. Can’t keep the chauffeur waiting.” 

We wove in and out through the maze of corridors. Place was deserted so early in the morning. I only saw one other CO making rounds and sleepily slurping on a suspect coffee that smelled a whole lot more like vodka when we passed. 

It wasn’t long before that last security door buzzed open and we stepped out into the lobby. Even the air smelled freer. For about two seconds, anyway, because there, standing with a couple other cops, was a tall southern gent. Three piece suit, greying red hair cropped short, faded freckles disappearing into the light dusting of wrinkles. 

I slowed to a stop. My shoulders slumped. I wasn’t even really looking forward to getting out to begin with, but the moment I saw him, every little piece of freedom or hope for my next few days on the outside slipped away like sand through my fingers. 

Dad never was a big proponent of fun.

“You sure we can’t call my ex?” I grumbled to Shah. 

“This will be good for you,” Shah said, betraying his blatant ignorance. Because if he knew the first thing about men like my father raising gay sons, he would fucking know better. “Give you the structure and support you need to turn your life around.” 

I breathed a humourless laugh. “Right. Well, it’s been a pleasure, Officer Shah.” Then I headed out the door. 

Dad joined me at my side. I didn’t meet his eyes. Never liked to. Too much shame and judgement I didn’t need to see when I could just as easily feel it every second he graced me with his presence. He gave me a slow, critical sidelong glance as we walked in silence into the parking lot. 

Not a word. No ‘hi’. No ‘what’s up, kiddo’. Nothing until we had climbed into his Lexus, and were headed down the highway. In the wrong direction. 

That was when he finally said in his light, deceptively gentle voice, “I’m running for Senate.” 

I leaned against the door with my arms folded about myself. Thought my first ride in a car without shackles would be nice. This didn’t feel nice. 

“Congrats,” I said. “You know Auburn’s south, right? We’re going North.” 

“Tonight I make the announcement, and then we’ll be diving right into the campaign.” 

I watched his hands on the wheel. Perfectly spaced. Relaxed. For a man who spent my childhood trying to beat the sissy out of me, them paws sure were soft and well-manicured.

His steady stare straight out at the road ahead bounced briefly to me, then right back. “We’re family.”

I laughed. He didn’t like that, because this time when he glanced at me, it was a sharp, chiding glare. I said, “You called me an abomination and-”

“You _are_ an abomin-”

“I was twelve, you piece of shit.”

“Enough,” he snapped. He swallowed hard and this time his glare stuck on me for a good few seconds before it faltered back to the rearview and the road ahead. After a moment, he continued in a soft, quiet voice. “I’m still your father.” 

“Well...” I shifted with a grunt and turned my gaze back out the window. Getting further and further from civilization now. Just trees and a quiet highway lit softly by the rising sun ahead. Pretty as it was, it sure did feel ominous. “I guess that depends on your definition.”

“Fine. Let me rephrase: you are my son, Liam. That means something to me.”

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly. I sighed and rested my head against the cool glass. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” 

\--

At the sound of a crinkle, I woke like a shot. It took a moment for the red haze of fight or flight panic to clear enough to see the wide-eyed shock on my dad’s face. His delicate wrist was captured in my white-knuckled grip. 

Had a bag of rice chips in his hand.

There was a beat of tense silence. I could feel him judging me for this too. God knows how, but he always found a way.

I let out a sheepish chuckle, though it did nothing to dispel the tension. I sank back into my seat and mumbled, “Are we there yet?”

His lips pursed. His brows furrowed deeply with his self-righteous concern. He was still a moment longer before he gently pried the bag open and handed it to me. “You used to be such a deep sleeper.”

I picked up the bag and sniffed it. Just smelled like over processed powdered cheese. “Got something against taters?”

“This is healthier.”

“Don’t smell healthier.” 

His lip twitched. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting a migraine. “Do you have to give me a hard time about every little thing?”

I shrugged as I set the bag down in the dish between the seats. I glanced out the window at the waking world around us. Looked like we’d stopped at the edge of a little town. Up ahead, through a screen of cedars, I could see a quaint little main street lined with a couple stores, a diner-slash-cafe, and a creamery with a big ol’ smiling ice cream bar sitting on its roof. 

“I guess I could just save us both the grief and leave.” I opened the door. 

“Liam, don’t-” 

I happily shoved the door closed and cut off his annoying judgmental voice. I hitched up my jeans. They’d gotten a little looser since my vacay into cage-city. Now where was I gonna find me a belt? My gaze swept across the highway behind me and I spotted a truck stop a couple miles out. 

A grin tugged at my lips. 

Maybe one of them truckers would oblige after a good roll in the back of their big rig.

“Liam, for Pete’s sake.” Dad’s door slammed closed. He paced around the car towards me with exasperation painted on his clean-shaven face. “I’m not the villain you think I am. I’m not here to try to change you. This isn’t a trick to trap you in conversion therapy-”

“Again.”

Dad cringed but nodded. “Again.” He swallowed. His gaze drifted around and he lifted his arms in a wide shrug. “I have faith that you will come to that when you’re ready, but for now, please. I just want to help my son stay out of prison. I have a safe place for you to stay, food, a bed, a lake to swim in...”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled. 

Woulda sounded real good, if it didn’t come from him, but that mother fucker wasn’t nearly as crafty as he fancied himself. I could read him like a book. This wasn’t about helping me, it was about him. My pansy ass would look real bad re-offending in the middle of his campaign, now wouldn’t it? 

He needed me. He needed this lil piggy to stay in his tiny, oppressive, homophobic pen. 

“You know,” I said after a few thoughtful moments, “I got friends.”

He blinked. Didn’t seem to know quite what to do with that. “Uh... I’m sure you do.”

“It’s a small, quiet town. Probably not a lot of fellow queers hanging 'round.”

“Okay,” Dad said with a frown like he was fixin’ to put a stop to this nonsense real quick. 

“Bound to get lonely.” 

He stepped towards me. His jaw set and his eyes hard. “You are pushing your luck, son.” That accent he spent the last twenty years trying to hide began to bleed through with his barely-masked rage. “I am playing this nice because we are blood, but I got friends too. Judges, lawyers, friends on the boards of every correctional facility in the state. So unless you wanna spend the next five years in ad seg for your own protection because daddy made you the anti-gay poster boy of his campaign, you’ll do as daddy says.” 

My lips thinned in a wry little line. I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to look him in them vicious eyes.

He shifted closer. Just to milk the moment he had me crushed under his thumb. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” I muttered. Then I shouldered past him to stroll back to the car. “And this right here is why my therapist thinks you’re the reason I suck so much cock.” 

“Liam,” he warned. 

“Like way too much. Like we-best-pump-this-bitches-stomach-before-she-pops kinda amounts.” 

Dad glared at me. He went to the driver's side and climbed in as he said, “Please don’t call yourself a ‘she’. You’re not that gay.” 

“On the way to where-ever-we-going,” I climbed in next to him and flashed him a quick smile, “I got a story for ya. It’s about my first prison gang bang. And let me tell you, boy is it a funny one.” 

\--

So this was it, was it? The massive, gaping black hole that was my father was handing me the keys to a veritable palace. Green as far as the eye can see all around that gorgeous, glittering lake. Glassy waters so calm, they had the whole big cloudy sky painted across them. 

Took my breath away. 

And my wits, apparently because I couldn’t think to say a damn thing about it. I just shuffled after him along the flagstone path, up the steps of a sprawling, covered porch. He didn’t take out keys, just threw the door open and strolled right in. 

When I followed, I saw why it wasn’t locked. There, in the middle of a huge, bright, airy room, a man was rising from a couch. He smiled at me and said something, but there was a big ol’ country kitchen singing to me so loud I didn’t care to hear him. 

“Oh man,” I breathed to myself. I pushed past daddy and made a beeline to an island counter. Ran my hand over the smooth, cold black top and I sucked in a lungful of a faint hickory scent. “This is just...” I exhaled slow. “Gratuitous. This marble?” 

“It certainly is,” the stranger answered. 

His voice was smooth and soft, like a lullaby, but sure wasn’t native to Alabama. I wasn’t even sure it was American. He moved across the room with an elegance that confused me and ran his long hands over the surface of the counter across from mine, like my exploration inspired him to do some exploring of his own, but his eyes, pools of rich amber, didn’t leave my face for a second. 

I didn’t like him, I decided. Way he looked at me made me nervous. If we were in prison and he gazed at me like that, there would’ve been a big problem.

“Do you like to cook?” He tilted his head. Made me wanna slap it the other way. 

“Sure,” I said with a nod. “This is a good deal bigger than the kitchen I’m used to, though. Betcha can make all kinds of ramen up in here.”

The guy grinned. “Oh yes. From scratch too.” 

“Is that right?” I let out an impressed whistle. “Ain’t had no scratch ramen before. That new?”

“Liam,” Dad chided. He wandered into the kitchen behind me and set a kettle on the stove. “You’re not an idiot so don’t act like one.” 

“Don’t know what you mean.” 

“This is my good friend and your new probation officer, Dr Andrea Mantovani. He’s been treating convicts in prisons and halfway houses for a couple of decades.”

My gaze swept down over his body. Bit of a belly, but toned in a few nice places. Could see plenty of thick chest hair sprouting from the collar of his green polo shirt that I could do without, honestly, but the hair on his head was even thicker, and a nice chestnut brown without a speck of grey even if he had to be pushing at least forty. 

“Looker too, ain’t you,” I said with a wink. “If my counsellor had an ass like that, I’d-”

“Liam,” Dad snapped. 

Andrea chuckled lightly. So light, it seemed to float up the half vaulted ceiling. “It’s fine. He’s exaggerating to rile you up, Glenn. He’s gonna keep doing it as long as it keeps working.”

I arched a brow and glanced at my dad. 

He glared back at me and muttered, “I know. Believe me, I know.” He turned away to pull a tin from a cabinet. 

“He can’t help it,” I told Andrea. “He’s sensitive.” 

His hands clenched into fists. He abandoned what he was doing to set his fists on the counter and breathe deeply. “I need to pray,” he said quietly. “I need the Lord to give me strength to deal with this...” His lip twitched.

“This what?”

He sneered at me but didn’t answer. 

“Oh, I think you should say it,” I prodded. “You ain’t shy on account of Andrea, here, are ya? He’s a friend of yours, I’m sure he’s even thinking the same thing.” 

“You are an ungodly, wretched beast,” he hissed under his breath. “I will not succumb.” Then he shoved the tin aside. It tipped and spilt loose tea out all over the counter, but he was in too much of a hurry to storm out the door to care. “I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Then the door slammed and he was gone. 

I gazed at the door for a long moment. Kept expecting the old drama queen to come marching back in and order me into the car, but I shoulda known better. Him not coming back for me was the story of my life. 

“Guess the deal’s off then,” I muttered. I started to get up off the barstool.

“Please, don’t get up.” Heavy hands pressed down on my shoulders. I looked back into Andrea’s dark, penetrating eyes. He lingered there a little too close, a little too long until that stare sent eerie chills creeping up my spine. He leaned down just close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear to say, “For the record, I am nothing like your father.”

“Friendly li’l bugger, ain’t ya?” 

“I have a confession to make, Liam.”

I could feel his gaze burning its way down my jaw, over my throat. I kept still. If he was gonna try something, I was primed and ready to snap his arm over that pretty marble counter. Or maybe I’d let him - I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet.

“Oh, I bet you do,” I muttered as I watched his hand slide down my chest. 

“Criminals are something of a passion of mine. Real, hard-time, career criminals. Broken men with nothing but rage and rebellion pumping through their veins.” 

His hand came to a tentative stop. It lingered there, just over my stomach. In the corner of my eye, I saw him bite his lip like he was trying not to go too far. Like this shit wasn’t too far already. 

“Maybe,” he continued as his hand came back up to my shoulder, “when you’re a little more settled in, you’ll let me interview you for a book I’m writing.”

Sure. ‘Interview’. 

I looked up at him with a bright, inviting smile and said, “Absolutely. That sounds like a great way to piss off my father.” 

He let out a quiet, breathy laugh, but his eyes were caught on mine and a faint blush coloured his cheeks. “Yes...” He cleared his throat and his hands slipped away from me. “Why don’t you take a look around town while I start on lunch?” 

I looked him over and watched the blush on his cheeks intensify. I wondered if Dad knew his BFF was a big, cock-loving queer, but that was a question for another day. So I gave him a parting salute and happily headed for the door.

Time to see about making me some friends.

**_To Be Continued..._ **


	2. When the Bark Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, guys!

Good thing I worked out in the big house, because that two mile hike uphill to get to town might’ve been brutal otherwise. By the time I got there, I was soaked with sweat. Them mosquitoes had a good banquet on my ass, and my calves were downright hostile. 

Best believe I was no longer in a cruising mood. 

I found the first open place with tables. A sports bar. Sure, it was quiet, probably because it was still mid-morning, but it sure wasn’t empty. 

“I don’t understand,” came a sob. 

I glanced over to see a couple women in a dark corner by the door. The younger of the two, a pretty blonde barely out of school age, was crying her mascara off into a shredded black-stained napkin. Her hands trembled almost as hard as her chin. 

The redhead doing a piss poor job at consoling her, was sitting close enough to whisper but not enough to touch. “Hush now,” she sent a quick, fuck-off glance in my direction as she said, “Someone might overhear.” 

“I swear,” Blondie choked out. “I heard the singing.” 

“I know you think you did, baby, but you been drinking.” 

“I saw somebody.”

“Coulda been anybody.” 

Ah, gaslighting. Almost made this dump feel like home already. I made my way to the counter. The few scattered bastards I passed gave me sideways glances, but no one tried to say nothing to me. 

Bartender tried on a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look at that. You got the Macbay nose.” 

“Uh huh,” I perched my ass up on a bar stool. “Like a Roman God, ain’t it?”

“I reck’n that’d make you Liam Macbay. What can I get you?”

“Aw, thanks bud, but I ain’t got no money on me. Fresh out of prison: I’m just having a look around town and my feet got tired on the way up here.” I flashed an apologetic smile. “You charge for your tap water out here?”

“Of course not.” He obliged with a nice big mug. Even tossed in a handful of ice - sure hope he washed that hand on the reg. When he set the mug in front of me, he said, “You know, I got nothing against queers.”

I fought back a curious grin as I lifted the mug to take a sip. “No?”

“I mean, I don’t think so, but there ain’t been none around here, so how can I know for sure until I meet one. N’ you seem nice enough.” 

“Aside the whole convicted felon thing, you mean.”

The bartender grinned and leaned in to conspiratorially whisper, “Your daddy never did tell us what your crime was. Just between you n’ me, you wasn’t no diddler, was you?”

“Nah, but I smashed a few of ‘em pretty good.”

I felt a body beside me. Looked over my shoulder just in time to watch a big ol’ country boy plunk onto the stool next to me. There was a whole counter full of empty seats, but I could hardly blame them for being curious.

“First couple times,” I told them, “were just drug charges. They say I hit a cop, but I don’t remember much.” I took another sip. “This last one, there was this man who was harassing some of my friends. Now you say you don’t mind the queers, but he minded us plenty, if you know what I mean.”

Bartender’s brows furrowed. “What’d he do to ‘em?” 

I glanced around. A couple others were listening in, but I didn’t mind. So I shifted sideways so everyone could hear me clearly. “Most of the time he just beat on the small ones. Corner them in the middle of the night, spring up on them in parks and alleys. Then there was this young’un. Fourteen years old, all flighty and happy as a hummingbird. He was out on the streets not three days, and we all saw that basher sniffing around, watching him from afar. Three days before the kid disappeared.”

Bartender’s eyes hardened. A couple of the others weren’t even trying to hide that they were listening anymore. I could see the distant sympathy and a few glimpses of anger on their faces. 

“So I went to find him,” I said with a shrug. “Brought a hammer. Thought I’d do some bashing of my own. There was a fight, and I woulda won it too if his wife hadn’t come up behind me and shot my sorry ass. They got me on trespassing and aggravated assault with a lethal weapon.” 

“What about the boy?” One of the women urged. 

I gave her a grim look. “Wish I knew. I never did get in that house.” 

There was a moment of solemn silence. I could feel a couple hearts bleeding in there around me. When I turned back towards the counter, I found the bartender setting a nice tall glass of beer in front of me. 

“You shoulda shot him,” the bartender muttered, but there was respect in his voice. “It’s on the house.”

“Kind ‘a you.” I tipped my head in thanks as I picked it up and took a grateful sip. 

“Jesus,” breathed the guy next to me. He gave me a pat on the shoulder. “That’s some hardcore shit. I’ll have a beer too, Eli.” 

“Coming right up.” The bartender turned away to find another mug. 

It was nice and cold too, with just enough head. I closed my eyes and savoured the smooth taste. The toilet hooch in prison tasted like a cup of fermented shit chunks compared to this. 

As Eli the bartender set another beer in front of the other man, I turned my attention to the screen above his head. The TV was a box. Must’ve been a good twenty years old. No HD 1080p graphics here - I could practically see the bulbs from where I sat. 

“You like sports?”

I glanced over at the man who was still watching me. I arched a brow and glanced back at the screen. Apparently I’d been ogling a baseball game. “Sure. I do love me some WWF.” 

“Ah, a wrestlemaniac, huh?” 

“I meant the one with the pandas.”

He let out a sharp laugh. Something about his smile just looked tickled to bits. So broad, he could hardly move his lips around his words. “That’s a sport, is it?”

I grinned. “If I lost enough money on it, I’d say that counts.” 

He chuckled, but it died to quiet. His smile lingered though, and so did his eyes on my face. Not creepy like Andrea: friendly. Warm. His tongue flicked over his lips when he awkwardly tore his eyes away. He took a slurp from his glass and murmured. “You have a very infectious smile.” 

That stopped me mid-sip, and I choked on it. Cold beer burned at my throat and nostrils and I coughed out a laugh. “Hold up, ‘Eli’, I thought you said there were no queers in town.” 

“Oh, I’m not gay,” the guy said a little too quickly. 

“You know,” Eli leaned against the counter, “That Italian feller, the one that came with your daddy. He says everybody’s a little bit of that bi-sexual.” 

“That’s disgusting, Eli,” An older man grunted from a back corner. 

“It’s called ‘progress’, you old goat.” 

“Charming town.” I grinned into my beer and tried another sip, more cautiously this time, with a glance at the man next to me to make sure he wasn’t going to test any more of Andrea’s theories.

He caught me watching him. Our eyes locked for a moment. Could feel blood rushing to my cheeks as a slow smile played across his. 

I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away to Eli’s curious gaze. He didn’t seem to know what to make of the attention I was getting either. 

“So,” the guy next to me sipped at his own beer, “Anybody give you a proper tour yet?”

“Nope. I was just fixin’ to do it for myself.” 

“Now that’s just unacceptable.” The guy got up and gave my shoulder a friendly pat. “C’mon, I’ll show you around. Did I introduce myself yet?” When the bartender shook his head, the guy gave a sheepish laugh and held his hand out to me. “Peyton Crabtree.” 

“Peyton Crabtree,” I tried it out on my tongue while I gave him a rough shake that made him grin. “I think I like it.”

“Well good. Somebody’s gotta.” 

\--

Peyton Crabtree was the kinda guy I dreamed about banging when I was young. He was fit as fuck. Nice, lean athletic body that I could see clear as day beneath his white t-shirt and pale jeans. Everything hugged his toned muscles in just the right way. Even his thick black hair, the way it draped over his shoulders made him look like a popstar. 

I’ll bet he played football in high school. Dated cheerleaders. Maybe he was even one of the nice ones that didn’t laugh and point when the class freak popped a boner watching him throw a frisbee at break. 

Okay, maybe I have an unresolved issue or two with guys like him. 

I watched him laugh. He was telling me some story or another that I stopped listening to twenty minutes ago. We strolled along a paved bike trail in the woods. Could see the glittering lake through the trees, and we’d lost sight of town ages ago, so we were alone. Just this charming popstar centerpiece with not a single flaw that I could see on that smooth, bronze skin, and me. Tatted up, scarred inside and out, ol’ me. 

“Oh, here it is,” He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the trees on a narrow, ingrown trail. “Mind your step. Lot of snakes out here.”

“Aw shit. Why’d you have to go and say that?” I frowned at the shadowy ground. Now everything looked like it had eyes.

He flashed a teasing grin at me. “You didn’t think there’d be snakes?”

“Can’t say I do a whole lot of thinking ‘bout snakes in general.” 

He was quiet a beat. Then in a low voice he asked, “Are you scared?”

“Well I don’t want you to get no funny ideas, so I’m gonna lie and say ‘no’.” 

Peyton chuckled. He pushed the brush aside and we came out into a tiny clearing. “There.”

I followed his gaze to a little rock hut. It was half buried in a hill, but so old I couldn’t tell if that was by design or by landslide. 

I gave him a playfully chiding look. “If you’re gonna invite me in to ‘Netflix and chill’, I should warn you, I haven’t showered since yesterday and I’ve done a whole lot of sweatin’.” 

Peyton’s lip twitched in a faint grin. His eyes flitted down over me just briefly before he nodded at the hut. “Used to be a town down here back in the 1800s. They weren’t very friendly people, and they sure as hell weren’t pushovers. Government tried to chase them off these lands many times, but they’d fight to the death if they had to and after a few skirmishes, everybody knew it and left them alone.”

Why’d I get the feeling this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending? I found a tree to lean against while I listened. 

“Then,” he stepped closer to me. When a smirk tugged at my lips, he took it as an invitation and inched even closer until there was nary a hand’s width between us. “One night, mid-summer, a merchant that traded with them came down and found them. Torn the fuck apart. Blood was everywhere, on the walls, on the ceilings, sprayed across the trees.”

“Well,” I breathed. It wasn’t the story sending prickling chills down my spine. It was the feel of his breath across my lips. He blocked out the sun, leaving me bathed in his shadowy body heat. “Sounds like somebody had a bad day.”

“That wasn’t the last time it happened. It was just the first.” Peyton’s fingers ran up my side, gently pushing my shirt up and exposing my waist to the humid air. “People cleaned up and moved in, and got slaughtered in the twenties. Then again in the fifties.”

I let out a breathy chuckle. I started to squirm a little against that tree. “You are such a fucking cocktease. I don’t give a flying shit ‘bout yer local folklore, so unless you’re gonna follow through, let’s move the fuck on.” I started to push past him. “Weren’t you gonna show me that-”

He pressed his hand to my chest and pushed me back against the tree. I gave his heated eyes a stunned look.

Then he dipped in. His lips crushed against mine. A hot, demanding tongue delved deep into my mouth. I grunted against the kiss. Pushed my hands into his thick hair. I could feel the sweat of his scalp on my fingertips. He broke away just long enough to pull my shirt off over my head. I barely got a gasp of air in before he dove right back in. 

Clumsy fingers fumbled with my belt. I chuckled into the kiss, and felt him grin in answer. His teeth pulled at my bottom lip as my pants hit my ankles. 

“You ain’t new at this, are you?” I panted. 

He pushed me, face first against the tree. I grabbed my blossoming erection to shield it from the bark just in time for the rock of his hips to shove me against it. 

“Look at all these tattoos.” An excited tremor rode his breath. He grabbed onto my backside with both hands. Gave it a deep, indulgent squeeze that made me groan before he spat in his hands and slathered himself up. “You,” he purred, “are a bad boy, ain’t you?” 

“You have no-” 

He pushed in and my voice cracked. A painful pressure ached through me. His fingers dug into my hips and slowly he forced himself in deeper and deeper. My legs shook and I desperately grabbed onto the trunk. 

“Oh god,” I gasped. 

“Fuck yeah,” Peyton growled. He thrust in sharp, driving me hard against the tree. I felt it deep in my belly, white hot searing pain. “You like that?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just started to thrust, slow at first, making me groan louder with each rock of his hips. But the sweat was slick between us and the more his fingers slipped, the faster and sloppier he got. He gave up on trying to hold me by my hips. Wrapped his arms around me, trapping mine to my sides and he just started nailing in. 

Every wild bump and grind raked me against the bark. I yelped and squirmed. I couldn’t choke out a protest to save my life. I didn’t want to. It hurt so bad, my body screamed for more. 

“Take that cock,” he barked in my ear. He said it again and again, his voice getting higher with each one. 

Until finally it cracked. We collapsed onto the ground. I couldn’t break my fall. My cheek hit grass and I gasped desperately as he drilled wildly in. He shoved in all the way. His body twitched and shook. His fingers dug painfully into my ribs and his drool trickled down the side of my neck. 

I let out a strangled squeak and the moment his teeth sunk into the back of my shoulder, I couldn’t take it anymore. I came in the grass, all over my thighs and stomach, and he just kept right on fucking and drooling. My body twitched and tightened. He moaned into my hair and muttered words I didn’t care to understand. 

Then he yanked out. He perched on the back of my thighs and frantically tugged at his cock until a hot spurt streaked across my ass. And another. And another to pool in the small of my back. 

He sunk back on my thighs with a long, relaxed sigh. All content and shit while I couldn’t stop twitching. 

“Oh yeah, you are so much cuter like this,” he murmured. He ran a hand slowly, indulgently over my ass, smearing around his cum. “All needy and broken.” He slowly pushed his cock back in. Pain throbbed through me and I groaned into the grass as he gave one long, lazy thrust. Then he pulled right back out and climbed to his feet. 

I wanted to get up too, but I couldn’t. As I helplessly watched him pull up his pants and walk away, I wrapped my fingers around my erection and milked the last few pathetic, weak spurts out. 

I wasn’t always such a little bitch when I came. It was the pain that did it to me. The raw stinging of my belly and cock where the bark got me, the dull throb in my ass. It fucked me up. 

It was a good few minutes before I got the strength up to climb to my feet, but I still hadn’t recovered. My body still twitched, still felt swollen and hot. I found my pants torn at the seams. Just my fucking luck.

A twig snapped. 

I looked up, expecting to see Peyton, but nope. Nothing. I fell still. Even tried to calm my shallow breathing enough to listen. There were cougars out there, right? Hoped they weren’t attracted by the smell of jizz.


	3. Them Singing Snakes

“Wow.”

“Don’t even say nuthin’.”

Andrea’s brows lifted so high, they almost touched his widow’s peak. He eyed the hot mess that was me as I shuffled into the room. I stopped awkwardly in the middle. Didn’t wanna look him in the eye, but I chanced it and found him fighting a smirk.

I scowled at him. “Now would be a good time to tell me where my bedroom is.”

He hid a chuckle by coughing into his hand. “Of course.”

He led the way up the stairs. I had to take them slow because... well, you know why. Kept my package clutched in both palms. It wasn’t because I was shy. Prison shook the shy right out of me a long time ago. It was just a little silly thing - I didn’t want him to see where I was hurt.

“This is it. The master bedroom at the end of the hall is your father’s and I’m staying in the basement. So you’ll be alone up here most of the time.”

Really? This seemed like the most opportune time to give me the lo-down, to him? I paused just inside the room and gave him an exasperated look. “Do you mind?”

He blinked slow. A curious smirk tugged at his lips and he leaned sideways against the door frame. “How do you feel?”

“What d'ya mean?”

“Right now, while you’re in the moment, tell me how it feels. Used, soiled, filthy... Describe this experience, living in your skin.”

I scowled at him on my way over to the closet. I pulled it open and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of clean clothes.

“I know,” he gently said. “It’s not easy to talk to a stranger. Much less me, a friend of your father, guilty by association. So maybe this will help you feel more at ease.” He plucked a folded fifty dollar bill from his breast pocket and held it in the air between two fingers.

A grin played across my face. “Do you want to fuck me, Andrea?”

His amusement melted to surprise. “What? No.”

“Well, that’s too bad.” I removed my hands from my package, not just to expose it, but spread ‘em wide, displaying every naked inch of myself to his baffled stare. “Because how I’m feeling now, all hot and swollen and that sweet sting all over my body...” My jaw set. I could feel the frustration edging my voice as I added, “It ain't fucking _enough_.”

He swallowed. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stepped into the room. In his calm, irritatingly gentle voice, he asked, “What do you want, Liam?”

I paced towards him. Snatched the money out of his hand and moved up close so he could feel my wet breath on his face as I hissed, “I want you to get on your knees and suck my cock like I cum liquid gold.”

His eyes flitted down my body. Not shy about where he was looking. A little red kissed his cheeks, but he didn’t squirm like I wanted him to - like I was fucking sure he would. Instead, in a calm, unaffected voice, he said, “That’s gonna get infected. Is that road rash?”

I frowned. “A tree bit me.”

“No one is going to suck your cock, even if you did cum liquid gold, until that heals.” He turned around and headed out of the room. “I will fetch the ointment.”

\--

It was quiet and dark. I wasn’t used to that. I laid in that soft, unstained bed for a good two hours, just staring at the ceiling. Events of the day played over in my mind on a loop. My dad, Eli, Peyton... Peyton’s stupid story.

I sighed loudly. Fact that no one could hear it for once shoulda been a blessing, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that empty void in the sheets beside me. Didn’t like the sounds of owls and coyotes yipping in the distance. I barely even liked Carlos, but boy... I was missing him something awful in that lonely bed.

I got up. Made my way through the quiet house, to the kitchen. Every step sent a faint sting through my package that made me shiver with need. Somewhere beneath my feet, I could hear Andrea’s jackhammer snores. I crept over to the basement door. Cracked it open to let the sound of him spill out. It was loud. Probably that big, prying nose of his. So fucking long and hooked at the end...

My mouth began to water. My fingers slipped down into my brand new boxers to stroke the swell trapped within.

Then I heard something. At first, it sounded like a howl. I froze and stared at the darkened patio doors as that howl became a drifting, forlorn melody.

“... the fuck?”

I slipped outside into the darkness. Stopped on the porch to listen to that deep, dry voice. So smooth and unwavering. It floated on the breeze, unmuffled by the trees like it was coming straight from the beach.

That woman in the bar came to mind. This couldn’t be what she was on about; there was nothing terrifying about that song. It was raw. An unhinged lament that plucked at pains deep in my blackened soul.

Chills rippled across my arms. It was so crisp and clear, I could practically taste the tune on my tongue. The darkness seemed to breathe each breath that voice took. It spun around me with every dizzying note drop.

As my eyes adjusted to the faint moonlight escaping the clouds, I saw something. Maybe. A big, dark shape standing in the shallow water.

“Hey,” I called out, but the singing continued.

I climbed down the porch steps, into the wet, freshly mowed grass. I shuffled my way towards the beach, but the closer I got, the more intense the vocalization. It overwhelmed my senses. I could feel the desperation in it like it was my own.

I stumbled to a stop in the sand. Cold water licked at my bare toes. I slapped my hands over my ears and shouted, “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Then it stopped.

And in that instant, I regretted it. An oppressive silence filled the air where the singing had been. The shape in the water rose up. Way bigger than I thought. Eyes glinted at me. A low, clicking snarl rolled through the darkness.

It didn’t sound human. I didn’t know what it sounded like. I took a stunned step back and I wasn’t sure no more if that was a guy or some kind of freakish gigantic bear, that apparently could sing? So I said, “I was just coming to check if you were alright. Didn’t mean nothing by it.”

The lapping water rippled. There was a beat of silence as something caught my eye just beneath the surface. 

Then the water exploded. I was doused by an icy cold spray as a long, black shape burst out. It darted at me. I leapt away with a panicked shriek. Another one shot out and latched onto my leg.

I screamed as a searing pain wracked through me. I ripped it off just as the moonlight blotted out and the hulking figure loomed.

I spun on my heel and raced up the lawn. The pain grew by the second. Halfway up I started limping. My leg grew numb. The darkness seemed to breathe. The porch ahead was waving back and forth and my vision was splitting to doubles. I tripped over the porch steps, but launched back up and crashed through the patio screen door, landing on my ass inside.

Light flooded on around me. I tried to get up, but everything was so spinny and blurry, I couldn’t tell what was up or down. “The door!” I shouted at the blur I hoped was Andrea. “Fucking singing snakes!”

He said something, but I couldn’t make it out. Hands touched my face. They grabbed at my arm like he was trying to help me up, but I shoved him away and as my vision faded to dark, I coughed out one last, “Am I dying...?”

\--

I woke with a gasp. My tangled blonde hair clung to my clammy face. I expected to see bars. To feel Carlos wrapped around me, hear his stupid whiny voice begging to know what was wrong with me, but instead, I was alone.

Kinda.

My wide eyes locked on Andrea, where he sat in an armchair scratching at a pad of paper with a piece of black chalk. His gaze lifted to meet mine and a warm smile stretched across his face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said.

“Snakes,” I said with a sleepy groan.

His smile fell. His lips pursed and after a moment of thought, he set the chalk and pad aside on an end table and shifted forward in his seat. “Yes... Do you have a history of sleepwalking?”

“What?” My brows knit painfully tight. I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t - I couldn’t fucking sleep, that’s why I came...” I let out a frustrated grunt and showed him my scabbed leg. “It bit me!”

“You crashed through the door. That scratch is from the twisted metal frame.”

“It’s a bite, asshole.”

“Liam, look at it. there’s no teeth marks. It’s a scratch.”

My lip curled in a sneer. I glared at him for a few long seconds before I looked down at the two long gashes along my calf. Looked like he’d treated it. Nice and clean, and covered in a clear bandage, and I couldn’t see tooth marks either.

It wasn’t fair. My mind was fuddled. I knew what I saw, I knew what happened to me was real, but how was I supposed to make him believe that when I had no fucking idea what exactly it was or what it did to me?

“It must be a shock,” Andrea gently said. “You had no idea you were getting out, and then your dad, this larger-than-life villain from your distant memories just shows up out of the blue and sets you free.”

I chuckled wryly. Stretched my arms up over my head and pushed my overgrown hair out of my face. “Got me figured, don’tcha?”

“I’m trying.”

I glanced at the pad of paper. “That why you sketching me? That how you ‘try’?”

Andrea tilted his head. He looked me up and down, and then curiously asked, “Do you often think people are attracted to you?”

A grin tugged at my lips. My eyes locked on his for a silent moment before I asked, “What do you think prison is, Doc?”

“I’ve worked in prisons. I know what it is.”

“Oh no: working in and surviving in are not the same things.” I got to my feet and stepped towards that comfy li’l chair of his. “You think you’re the first manipulative cunt that ever tried to fuck with my head? I broke bread with serial killers, Andrea. They locked me in a tiny cage with a genuine, animal-torturing sociopath who made a career out of sending his enemies to the psych ward.”

He frowned and stood up, even though I didn’t leave him a whole lot of room to do it. “You,” he murmured as he lifted a hand to touch my cheek, “are not in prison anymore.”

I caught him by the wrist. His eyes snapped to my hand and then right back to my warning glower.

The silence grew charged between us. His dark eyes glimmered and his lips parted slow as he sucked in a long, drawn-out breath, almost like he was fixin’ to say something, but that wet sliver of a tongue just wouldn’t wag for me. The tease.

Thumping footsteps broke the silence. My first thought was daddy, and I abruptly threw Andrea’s wrist away from me like it burned, and backed up.

He eyed me curiously with his brows furrowed. Almost looked like disappointment, like he wanted someone to see that. Hell, maybe he did - that man seemed all kinds of fucked in the head.

He rubbed at his wrist as he started for the door. It was red where I gripped him, sore and angry looking. He tugged his linen shirt down over it, and just as a knocking came at the door, he pulled it open.

“Hey there Mr. M,” chimed a familiar voice.

“Mr. Crabtree.” Andrea waved him in. “Good morning. Enjoy your jog?”

“Course.”

Peyton strolled in, looking all shiny and freshly showered. His hair was still damp and draped to one side, just unkempt enough to scream sexy and still be presentable in his pressed slacks and button-up linen shirt.

When his eyes met mine, he smiled. Them dazzling teeth made my cock twitch and a needy tingle ripple down my spine.

“It’s a beautiful morning,” He drawled as his gaze drifted down over my boxers. A smirk tugged at his lips. “What happened to your leg?”

I glanced at Andrea. “Thought I’d take up sleepwalking.”

“Interesting choice.” Peyton draped his arm over my shoulders. It might’ve been a nice, friendly gesture if he didn’t back it up by pulling me closer as he guided me to the stairs. “Let’s get you dressed for church.”

I let out a laugh. “Church? On a Tuesday?”

“The Good Lord takes no holidays, and neither does this pious flock.” Peyton said with a quick smile back at Andrea’s watchful eyes before we climbed up out of sight.

That had to be a new one: nobody’s ever used church as an excuse to fuck me before. Probably because nobody who knew me for two seconds would believe it. But I let him lead me to my room. He knew exactly where it was, and as I plopped down on the bed, he headed for the closet.

I laid back with a grin and folded my arms under my head. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

Peyton chuckled. “That’s not how small towns work.”

“You know what I mean.”

He pulled a white shirt from the closet and held it out for me to see. “This would look good on you.”

In a cheery voice, I replied, “If that thing so much as touches me, I’m gonna rip it up and shit on it.”

“Alright.” He put it back. “What do you like?”

“Leather,” I breathed. His gaze flitted back to me at the tone of my voice, so I playfully ran my hand down my bare chest and across my abs, and his heated eyes followed every move. “So tight, it leaves not a _damn_ thing to the imagination. My welted ass bulges from tears in all the right places, and it’s belted by a chain that, in a pinch,” I gripped the headboard with my free hand and gripped my package with the other, “can tie a bad bitch down.”

He swallowed. “I don’t think I’m gonna find that in this closet.”

“Now that’s a real shame.”

“You...” He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head.

“What?” I teased.

He pulled out jeans and a crisp white t-shirt and tossed them on top of me. “You’re making me late for church. Get dressed.”

I sat up with a frown. “Wait, yer serious about the church thing?” Apparently, I wasn’t dressing fast enough - or at all - because Peyton marched on over and started putting the shirt on for me. “I’m an atheist.”

He smirked. His brown eyes lingered on my face. “That’s cute,” he murmured. Then he ran his fingers through my hair real slow to straighten it out. “That won’t last long around here, though.”

I snorted. I pulled on the jeans and got to my feet. I moved in real close. Let my eyes hold his for a fleeting moment before I dipped my head over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, “You wanna bring the devil to church, boy, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh,” he breathed as his fingers ran up my chest, over my collar bone, “Sounds like we need to exorcise this evil that’s taken hold of your innocent soul.” He gripped my throat tight. Just tight enough that I could feel the pressure on my windpipe before his lips crushed against mine.

I grunted as my back hit the door frame. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and when I tried to grab onto him, he let go of my throat to catch my wrists and pin them above my head. Then his lips hit my neck and he went to town, sucking and biting like he wanted to take my jugular out. He grinded his tented groin against me hard.

I groaned. My body flared in approval. My fingers curled into fists in the air and my eyes rolled back in my head.

He pulled back, panting, just enough to peer into my eyes while his hips kept right on rubbing, mashing our fabric-bound erections together. “Now you tell that devil,” he panted, “you’re mine now.”

Poor thing. If he really meant that, he had a world of pain coming to him.  
  
**To Be Continued...**


	4. Church Service

Church and me, yeah we don’t mix. I don’t know what made Peyton think this was a good idea, bringing me. I felt like a junkyard dog, walking into that place next to him. Shiny, perfect him. Me with my jeans and giant, fresh hickey on my neck and prison tattoos all over my arms. It’s a wonder I didn’t burst into flames the moment I stepped through that door.

Music was going. The good people were halfway through a hymn. A couple of them stopped singing to stare at us, and upfront, the preacher took one look at me and hit Peyton with a baffled, offended look. Apparently, he didn’t get it either.

“I’m sorry,” Peyton whispered to a scornful old woman we passed. “Had to clean him up. That took more time than I thought, you can imagine.”

“Mm-hm,” She clicked her tongue with a disapproving glance at me. “Don’t know why you bothered with that one.”

“Me neither,” I grunted.

Peyton fought back a furtive grin. He elbowed me in the ribs, then pulled me down into an empty pew. “Shush up.”

Disturbance aside, the hymn continued on, sang off-key. A coupla screeching voices were coming from the front like they were competing with each other. Few rows ahead of us, a young girl, dressed to the nines in frills kept glancing back at me. Couldn’t tell if that was curiosity in her eyes or terror.

So I gave her a wink and she immediately turned beet red and buried her face in a pamphlet. Such a little mousy thing. If she were a man, she’d be perfect for a couple of my church fantasies. 

I felt Peyton’s breath on my ear. His hand slipped over my thigh and a needy chill pulsed down my spine. “There’s somebody here that wants to meet you.”

“Repressed place like this,” I leaned into his touch and smirked. “I’m sure half the congregation wants to ‘ _meet_ ’ me.” 

He let out a low chuckle. “You are such a slut.” 

“Must come as a real shock to you, after how we met up at that purity ball.”

He gave me a silencing look. I didn’t get it, He couldn’t have been that far in the closet. I mean, people weren’t stupid, they could put two and two together about him and I and that big mark he painted on my neck like he wanted folks to know. But I settled in my seat with my arms stretched across the back of the pews. Show all those judgmental fools that I could behave like a regular, law-abiding citizen. 

The music eventually died down and the preacher droned into his sermon. Didn’t have half the charisma of preachers I saw on TV shows. He was reading from notes half the time, and the other half, he was stumbling over his words. 

I spent a good portion of it playing a game in my head entitled, ‘How He Shoulda Said It,’ and the rest I spent checking out the locals. Most of them looked like they were running a few years late for their ferry ride to the underworld; craggy, sunken faces, liver spots, bad cases of the shakes. There were two men, though, that could perfectly fill that daddy-complex-shaped hole in my soul. Coupla handsome fuckers, a good decade or two my senior. 

Neither would look at me though. 

I was just starting to count the stupid hats when I saw something big in the corner of my eye. Through the frosted window, there was a shape moving through the cemetery behind the church. An impossibly tall, hulking shape. 

My breath caught in my throat. 

Peyton gave me a puzzled look and followed my gaze. 

“I need to go.” 

“What? Hey, Liam wait-”

But I was already on my feet and headed for the door. 

The preacher stopped his sermon to bark at me, “Sit back down, young man.”

I gave him a dismissive wave. “Sorry for interrupting, father, I but I hafta find a bathroom real quick like.”

“I’m not your father. You will call me ‘Deacon’, boy, and _sit_ ,” he stressed the word with a snarl, “ _down_.”

“Oh, let the little sodomite go, Jeff,” some old man said.

I paused with my hand on the door. Glanced back at the room full of gawking, vindicated eyes. So I smiled, waved, and said, “Eat my cock, Deacon. And the rest of y’all, have a blessed day.”

Then I shoved the door open and strolled out. I didn’t bother looking to see Peyton’s reaction. Maybe next time he’d think twice about trying to shine me up. 

I went around the building and found the figure there, standing over a tombstone. A long black braid was draped down his massive, muscular back. I barely reached the first row of graves when he snapped around to shoot me a glare that stopped me in my tracks. 

It was just a man. Sharp cheekbones, a jaw that could bite through steel, and sharp black hawkish eyes that glared so fiercely, they made my belly quiver. 

“Jesus,” I breathed as I chanced a step closer. Didn’t look like he was guarded by no devil snakes this time. “How tall are you?” 

His lip twitched into an angry sneer.  “You,” came a deep, dry voice, “killed them all.”

I blinked and stopped. “Uh, what?”

A low growl rolled through the air between us. So deep I could feel it in my bones. “They trusted you.”

“Wait, who-”

“You ripped them apart.” He paced towards me. Every stomp shook the ground beneath my feet. His muscles flexed beneath a torn, bloody shirt as he rapidly closed the distance. “Ripped pieces off and out while they still lived, while they watched, while you _raped_.” 

I stumbled backwards. My back hit an iron gate I don’t remember being there. His hands slammed against the iron on either side of my head. I couldn’t breathe. He glared into my eyes with a rage that I felt searing across my flesh. 

“You want a monster?!” He pounded a fist to his chest. “I will be your fucking monster!”

A bang shook the both us. A hole burst through his head. Blood and bits of flesh sprayed my face. A tremor rocked through me. I let out a squeak of terror as he grabbed weakly at my shirt and neck. If I wasn’t gripping them bars for dear life, he coulda easily pulled me down as he collapsed against my legs. 

Something touched my shoulder. I jerked around to find Andrea frowning at me. The bars were gone. My eyes snapped down to the empty grass. I slapped frantically at my face to get the blood splatter off, but all I found was cold, clammy sweat. 

“Liam,” Andrea grabbed my wrists to stop me. He touched the side of my face and peered into my frantic eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“I...” I swallowed. My hand trembled violently in his grip. “I don’t know.” 

“Alright. That’s okay.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and started leading me out of the cemetery. 

In the window of the church, I could see Peyton calmly watching me go. 

\--

“So.” Andrea placed a tall, frosty glass of sweet tea in front of me, lemon wedge and all, and then sank into his recliner. “Walk me through it.” 

I frowned at him. When I picked up the glass, I noticed my hands were still shaking a little. What the fuck was happening to me?

He spread his arms. “Give me a chance. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” I ignored the straw and took a big gulp of the over-sweetened shit straight from the glass. I crunched on a piece of ice as I gave him a critical once-over. “Peyton told me a story yesterday.”

Andrea nodded slowly but didn’t look surprised. 

“About a town down here where everybody got slaughtered.” I hesitated a moment before I looked him in the eye. “Is it true? I mean, I don’t get scared by fucking ghost stories, but I can’t figure why else I’m seeing him.” 

Andrea’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Tallest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.” 

He was quiet for a moment as his gaze flitted absently around the room. “There are... Folk legends around here. The townspeople believe there’s a monster in the lake that kills people who try to settle too close. A lot of them were quite upset when your father decided to build here.” 

A faint grin tugged at my lips. “Who knew my daddy was such a rebel?”

Andrea chuckled. “He’s not always the staunch conformist you resent so much.”

My grin quickly stiffened to a wry smile. Right. Like it was his ‘conformity’ that I resented. “So... was there really a town?”

Andrea gazed at me for a moment, then breathed a slow sigh. “Yes. There was a town. And there was a tragedy in that town, but not the way I’m sure Mr. Crabtree tells it. I doubt he or anyone else around here has actually taken the time to dig up the old...” He trailed off as he watched me stand up. 

I took my glass with me as I sauntered over to his recliner. Took a long, slow sip as my gaze drifted over his lanky frame. “Go on,” I encouraged. 

“What are you...”

I sat on the arm of the chair and draped my arm over the back. “What happened to the town?”

He swallowed. He didn’t shy away or stutter like some men would’ve, but his cheeks reddened just a little. “The people came down from the Appalachians. Just a small group of families. They found this lake, crystal clear and brimming with fish, but there was a tribe already settled here. So they took it from them. As you can imagine, the tribe wasn’t happy about being chased off their land, so they resettled on an island in the middle of the lake, where the water runs deep. Lots of dangerous currents they thought would deter their new neighbours.” 

“Didn’t though, did it?”

“It did at first.” Andrea cleared his throat and shifted in the seat. His gaze twitched down my body every now and then, like he was trying to resist looking and failing miserably. “But then something changed.”

I waited a beat, but he wasn’t talking fast enough, so I urged, “What?”

“Some details are lost to time, I’m afraid. But they lived like that for a couple odd years without a recorded incident, and then the families took their rickety little boats, braved the currents and wiped the tribe out.” 

“Is that it? That’s the whole story?”

“No,” Andrea muttered with another wayward glance. 

I smiled. “Good.” Then I put the drink down and peeled my shirt slowly off over my head. 

“They...” His voice shallowed, just a hint. “They died.”

“I know that part,” I murmured as I moved over him to straddle his lap. 

A faint panic shone in his eyes, but he was schooled enough not to show it on his face. His fingers dug into the cushioned arms of the chair as I slid my hands slowly over his shoulders. 

“What are you doing, Liam?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Doc. I’m just getting to know you.” I took his hand and ran it up my bare chest. “How’d they die?” 

“It was likely retribution. Survivors from the tribe or an ally.” His other hand found its way to the side of my thigh, and it wasn’t long before the first no longer needed my hand to guide it. He groped a pec with a long, indulgent squeeze before travelling back down to map my midsection. “Jesus,” he breathed. 

Between us, I felt his cock wake. Felt his resolve crumble as his fingers found their way lower, past my belly, down the faint trail of blonde pubes to the button of my jeans. 

Then he stopped. Why the fuck did he stop?

“This isn’t what I want,” he whispered. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” I whispered back. 

His heated eyes flitted up to mine. “You,” his voice was husky with lust, “are an attractive boy, but you are too young.”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“For _me_ , Liam. I mean for me.” He took his hands away with a jerk. “I need you to trust me, and I can’t build that trust if I take advantage of your addiction. Please. Stop trying to tempt me.”

I glanced down at the bulge in his pants. I needed it. I needed to taste it, to feel it filling me up, and it was right fucking there, pressing against mine. It would be so easy to tip him over the edge, I just knew it. 

But that wasn’t the kinda man I wanted to be.

“Fine,” I finally said. I sighed and got up off his lap. I snatched the shirt up off the floor and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Andrea called after me. “Where are you going? We need to talk through this.” 

“Look,” I gave him a wide shrug as I headed out. “I appreciate you trying so hard for me. I really do. But you gotta understand, Doc, talking’s never done me no good.”

\--

Couldn’t go anywhere in that town without everybody taking note. Moment I walked through the door of that bar, all eyes turned on me. A few more polite individuals took one glance and went back to their afternoon booze binge, but the rest weren’t shy about gawking. 

“There he is!” Eli called out with a teasing smile. “Got money this time, you thief?” 

“You betcha, and man am I thirsty.”

Eli started pouring a beer from the tap. Didn’t ask me what I wanted, but it was a small town - maybe there weren’t a whole lot of options. “Heard you gave the Deacon a mouthful.”

“Well, I offered to at least.” I climbed onto the stool. 

“He’s petitioning the council to get you kicked out of town.” 

I snorted. “Oh god, please let him succeed. Can he do that?”

“Not really. Making him blush in front of his congregation don’t rightly warrant legal action.” 

“Now that’s a damn shame.” I took the mug he offered and sipped through the thick head. Beer was nice and cold on my parched throat. Almost cut through the humidity for a second there. “You weren’t at church?”

“I’m catholic.” 

“Hoo boy,” I whistled and laughed. “In a baptist town?”

“Oh, I ain’t alone. There’s near three of us now. Don’t got no church, but we barbecue on Sundays. We’d love for ya to join us if you’re keen.” 

I shrugged. “Ain’t like I got plans.” I glanced down the bar. “You serve food here?” 

“Got a deep fryer.”

“I guess a salad is a no-go then?”

“What’s a salad?” 

“Well, ain’t I lucking out? My bartender’s a genuine comedian!” 

Eli’s gaze drifted past me as the door chimed. I wasn’t gonna bother. I was happy just sipping on my drink, but he gave me an odd look that piqued my curiosity. 

I glanced over my shoulder, and there, standing in the middle of the bar, was a man in a cassock and collar. Just staring at me while everybody stared at him. 

“Hey Eli,” I muttered. “You telling me you got a priest but no church?” 

Eli gave me a wide-eyed shrug. “He ain’t ours.” 

“Huh.” I eyed the priest. 

His eyebrows were furrowed with desperation. His cheeks flushed with colour and there was a tremble on his breath. “You’re Liam?”

“He knows your name,” Eli helpfully said. 

I gave him a quick glance. “I have ears.” I pushed my drink aside and got to my feet with a lazy groan. “Alright, feller. How can I help you?” 

He trembled a little more as I stepped towards him. Weird. I tilted my head and looked him up and down. That heat in his quivering eyes definitely wasn’t fear. That was a look I knew well: the look of a man lusting for something. 

I wasn’t a fool. I didn’t think some random priest popped in here knowing my name and wanting some just by pure coincidence. This felt like a setup, but he was a good actor and boy was I game. 

So I smiled my best smile as I sauntered in close. “Aw, lookit that. I think he likes me.” 

“Who knew?” Eli agreed. “We got ourselves a real Casanova.”

I lifted my hand to run up the priest’s arm. He jerked a little like I shocked him. “What’s yer name?”

“I’m... I’m Luis Sinclair.” 

“What you want, Luis Sinclair?” I tilted my head to follow his faltering stare. I shifted closer and his breath hitched. Oh, he was good. “You wanna dance with me? Hey Eli, where’s your dance floor?”

“Next town over,” Eli said.

“You saw him,” Luis breathed.

A chill rippled down my spine. Our eyes locked. He knew I knew who he was talking about.

Eli appeared beside us. He looked back and forth between me and the priest and asked, “Who?”

“Lady in here yesterday said she saw him too. You beating down her door?” 

Luis frowned. “He didn’t speak to her. He didn’t bite her.” 

The chill ramped up to a flash freeze. My blood ran cold and then hot. As every hair on my body stood on end, I narrowed my eyes and curled my lip into a sneer. I shifted closer until he could feel my breath on his face. I could sense Eli tensing beside me. 

I demanded in a growl, “Who told you?” 

A shiver rode his breath. Under my glare, he seemed to struggle to inhale. “I smell it.”

“Okay,” Eli’s voice was deep and edged with warning. “I think it’s time you go, Father ‘Sinclair’.” 

The priest hesitated. His fingers wriggled like he wanted to touch me, and his lips parted to speak. 

“You heard the man,” I murmured to him. “Go on now.”

He clamped his mouth shut. Swallowed hard, and after a moment more of staring into my eyes with that desperate heat of his, he abruptly turned around and clipped his way out the door. 

I watched a moment longer. Just to make sure he was really gone because I could swear I still felt the fucker quivering at me. All deploring and hungry like a junkie watching me light a spoon. 

That wasn’t the last I’d see of him. No siree. 

I turned and headed back for the bar. “You know what, Eli?”

“What’s that?”

“I think I like you.”

“Yeah.” Eli sidled back up behind the bar and gave his chin a scratch. “I have that effect on people.” 

**Author's Note:**

> We started a small, supportive chat server for erotica writers. (Fanfiction and original). You're welcome to join us! https://discord.gg/p73UUJX


End file.
